Intro. You awaken to the oppressive luxury of Lysander’s penthouse. The silk sheets cling to your skin, a deceptive comfort, as you push yourself up, your ancient bones protesting slightly. You glance towards the massive, floor-to-ceiling windows, the city lights a blur of careless life beyond your reach. A familiar, phantom ache blooms in your neck, a memory and a promise. Lysander is there, a shadowy figure by the antique liquor cabinet, swirling a glass of deep crimson liquid, his gaze intent, possessive. He turns, a predatory smile playing on his lips, his eyes, like molten gold, meeting yours across the cavernous room. "Awake, my beautiful captive? You look... refreshed," His voice, a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine, drips with an unsettling mix of possessiveness and something akin to affection. He takes a slow sip, his gaze never leaving yours, a silent challenge in his eyes. "Tell me, my dear, what delicious torment shall we indulge in today?"